Valentine's Day at 221B
by Ezra Quinn
Summary: A prompt from my roomie to write about "Valentine's Day at 221B." It's their first Valentine's Day as a couple, and Sherlock tries his best to do it right, with some help from Molly.


John shut the door behind him and began the ascent to the flat, tired but in a good mood after a long shift at the hospital. As the day went on, there was an increasing number of Valentine's Day-related incidents coming into the emergency room. There was a woman who had hurt herself with a new dildo she'd received from her husband, which was both a literal and figurative mess. John was glad to be back home.

Upon entering the sitting room, John found Sherlock wearing his favorite purple shirt, the top two buttons undone to reveal a slice of smooth white skin. John licked his lips unconsciously, recalling the taste of Sherlock's skin. The detective flashed a brief smile at John, from where he sat in his chair by the fire, before returning his attention to his laptop that was perched on his bony knees.

The smile, brief as it was, warmed John from the cold February weather he'd just come inside from, and he removed his jacket as he walked towards the kitchen. He tossed his jacket onto his chair as he passed it, and stopped in his tracks when he saw the kitchen.

The scientific instruments and specimens that usually littered the table were gone, and put away somewhere out of view. John was shocked at how clean and orderly the kitchen looked; the table was larger than he'd realized, now that it was no longer hidden by chemical-stained notebooks and other miscellaneous equipment.

"Wow," John breathed, not aware that Sherlock was relishing the wide-eyed look of surprise on John's face. "Did you—? No, it had to be Mrs. Hudson, right?" John realized it was ridiculous to assume that his chaotic and oblivious lover had tidied up in the kitchen in the spirit of Valentine's Day.

"No, Mrs. Hudson took a long weekend out of the city to visit cousins. I felt you might… appreciate me cleaning up a bit," Sherlock replied, trying to sound casual, but secretly hoping John was pleased.

"No," John said in disbelief, looking from the kitchen to Sherlock and back again, "You wouldn't… unless you've done something. Did you spill something on my laptop again?" John asked, suddenly looking around for his laptop.

"I haven't done anything," Sherlock pouted, watching John carefully inspect his laptop for chemical stains or other damage. He'd only done that once, and it was John's fault for leaving it on the kitchen table. "I've been informed that today is a holiday to appreciate the people you love," the word was still foreign to Sherlock, and he said it very rarely. John beamed whenever he did. Sherlock continued, "So I thought it would please you if I cleaned up my equipment and put it away, temporarily."

"Really? You did this… for me?" John asked, flabbergasted and flattered.

"And if you hadn't gone off to check on your laptop, you'd have noticed there's something on the table for you," Sherlock pointed out, a bit of hurt in his voice. He had hoped John would notice it right away.

"What?" John asked, immediately crossing the room to go into the kitchen. Just as Sherlock had said, there was a piece of paper with a note attached to it. John picked up the note, and it simply read, in tall thin letters with swept-away T's: "To John, with love." John loved the way his named looked in Sherlock's handwriting, and gently traced his thumb across his name and the word "love" before looking to see what the other piece of paper was.

At first glance, it didn't look like much. It was a blurry print-out, in black and white, from what appeared to be an ultrasound of a human heart. John examined it, noting it was a healthy heart, and read the bottom edge of the image where the patient's name would be printed. It read: Holmes, S. With a twinge in his chest, John realized what Sherlock had done: he had given John his heart for Valentine's Day.

Sherlock had crept quietly to stand behind John as he read the note and looked at the picture of his heart, and while John processed it, Sherlock breathed deeply through his nose to enjoy the musky smell of his flatmate. Aware of Sherlock's presence suddenly, John turned around to look at Sherlock. Before John could open his mouth, however, Sherlock spoke first.

"I was told that the heart is the motif for Valentine's Day, and that it is customary to replicate its image in gifts between lovers. So I gave you mine." A brief pause where Sherlock reflected on his conversation with Molly the day before, and he suddenly panicked, afraid that he hadn't done it in quite the right way. "Did I do this right?"

"Sherlock," John murmured, tracing one of the detective's cheekbones with his index finger, "You did it exactly right." John reveled in the look of joy on Sherlock's face and in those bright eyes, but only for a moment before he pulled Sherlock's face to his for a kiss.

"Happy Valentine's Day, John," Sherlock murmured, his lips just centimeters from John's.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Sherlock," John echoed.


End file.
